Chainsaw
by Dragonblooded
Summary: A perfect life, a perfect wife, a perfect little girl. Now just memories. We were two strong steady trees, Tang Shen and I, branches inextricably knotted together with the red thread of destiny; cut down by the chainsaw that is Oroku Saki. Now all that is left are the memories and the sawdust. A history of Tang Shen, Oroku Saki, and Hamato Yoshi. Collaboration with aliengirl13.


**So as the summary says, this is a collaboration with aliengirl13. We're alternating writing chapters, and lucky me, I get to start first. Now I don't want to ramble and give something away, so I' shut up so you can start reading. Enjoy!**

**I included some handy-dandy footnotes for the various Chinese/Japanese terms throughout the story, so if you are curious or confused by terms they **_**should **_**be defined. Fanfiction refuses to let me use superscripts, so the numbers are full-size and bold next to their words. **

"Shen, come _on_!" Sai exclaims, "You pass by those flowers every single day of your life; why must you always stop to smell them?"

I smile as I draw another trailing length of wisteria up to my nose. "Because when the winter comes, they will be gone. I have to enjoy them while I can." I reply.

"Shen, it's _April_. You'll have plenty of time to smell flowers when we're not running late. Now let's _go_!"

I sigh and pluck a few wisteria strands. Clutching them tightly, I leisurely stroll up to Sai, which irritates her very badly. The girl practically turned as red as the flower for which she is named. Funny how she couldn't care less about the plants that gave her such a pretty name.

"Alright." I say reluctantly, "Race you!" I take off running down the dirt path through town, leaving Sai to eat my dust. Laughing loudly, I take out my bun and let my hair whip about as it so chooses. Of course, it chooses to whip itself right into my open mouth.

I turn the right and nearly barrel over a man with a wheelbarrow of scallops. Tripping over my own feet, I perform a strange twirling hop-skip dance to avoid him. "Sorry!" I cry.

He laughs. "It is quite alright, Tang-chan**1**! It must be hard for two little feet to keep up with such a quick and happy mind!" Still chuckling, he returns to pushing his cart.

I wheel around and body-slam a woman hauling a burlap sack full of cherries. She stumbles back and drops the back. "Sorry, Kari-sama**2**!" I exclaim as I kneel to scoop up the fallen cherries.

"Thank you, Tang-chan." Kari-sama says when I hand her the bag. When I offer her a handful of fruit that fell out, she waves a hand at me and walks away with a smile across her face.

This is how we live. Even in 1980, when everywhere else in Japan is obsessed with factories and machinery, imports and exports, we desperately cling to the old ways. Hiding far to the north, we live off what we can grow, taking in only what we can't manufacture ourselves. Cherries, bivalves, salmon, bamboo, wood of all kinds; I'd say we do pretty good on our own. Your best friend is the kid next door. We use locks so little they may as well have never been invented. Our idea of a good time is when the tons of taimen**3** fill the river, practically launching themselves at your hooks. Your first date is skipping stones and seeing how high you can climb in the old elm trees. We speak in riddles and rhymes and write proverbs on our doors.

This is how we live. Welcome to Sarufutsu, the reed bed river mouth. Or in Chinese, pay the monkey. Don't ask...

I grin and pop the cherries in my mouth, spitting pits at anything (or anyone) I choose. I run the rest of the way without giving anyone a concussion. When I arrive, I cling to the wooden arch and stare at the sight that will never get old.

There isn't a blade of grass in sight in the park. The ground is blanketed in tulips and pink moss, shibazakura**4**. Shimmering Sarufutsu River winds its way through the center of the clearing. Scattered about are various tall trees-birch, spruce, fir, oak, elm, sakura**5**-protecting us with umbrellas of shade. Children chase each other in circles about their bases and families sit on blankets in their shadows. Above me is a glimmering wooden arch carved with lavender and autumn leaves, marking the gateway between reality and flowered fantasy. Where there aren't people, woodpeckers cling to the tree trunks, adding the pretty music of nature's metronome to the scene. Swans drift down the river without a care in the world. Cranes and herons perch on one leg and peck at the streaming water. A camera would never be able to do this world justice.

Sai pants as she jogs up behind mesmerized me. She bends over and attempts to catch her breath. "Shen, you _suck_." she heaves.

I wander forward and brush my hands through the pink blossoms that blanket the ground. Sai doesn't notice me leaving until I'm at least a few meters away. She moans loudly and jogs after me. Meandering about aimlessly, it takes me a few times to hear when someone calls, "Shen!"

I turn. Mama beckons me to the koi**6**-patterned cloth she sits on underneath a tall spruce. Next to her are her two sisters, Shui and Viella. "Shen!" my mother cries, "Come here!" I groan softly as I trudge over. I love my mama and my Aunt Shui, but Aunt Viella (or A yi**7**, as she insists I call her) coddles me far too much. She's like my father times ten. It doesn't seem to register in her mind that I am seventeen now, almost an adult. A yi is always insisting that we should move back to China. She claims that Japan is dangerous; ninja, ronin**8**, and yōkai**9** are lurking around every corner waiting to gobble you up and run you through with their swords.

I find it all horribly ridiculous. It's so _annoying_.

With a resigned plop, I sit down next to Aunt Shui. She smiles and wraps an arm around me in a little hug. "Hello, my little Shenny-chenny." she coos.

I smile and lean into her shoulder. "Hi, Shi-shi." Cutesy names are Aunt Shui's thing. Even as the youngest of her sisters, she has nicknames for all of them, most of which rhyme. She has names for my father, and never once have I heard her call any of us children by our real names. Some, like my father, hate her names and absolutely refuse to call her 'Shi-shi', but I'm perfectly happy being Shenny-chenny.

The blanket ripples a little. I turn to my right and find that A yi has relocated from her spot on Mama's left to a spot on my right. "Shen, have you _heard _what your father is doing?!" she says in her usual insinuating voice, "It's absolutely _insane_!"

I know exactly what he is up to, but if I say I do A yi will claim I'm lying. She seems to be under some sort of belief that I'm a compulsive liar, most likely because I grew up in 'the wretched land of Japan, where they swear like sailors and lie like devils'. Her lies, not mine.

I smile politely and say calmly, "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't, child! It's above your head." A yi exclaims, "But I guess you have a right to know, even if you won't understand a word I'm saying." I drop the smile. Shi-shi's gentle pressure on my side is the only thing that keeps me biting my tongue.

A yi scoots closer and cups a hand over her mouth, whispering in a voice louder than she was speaking before. "You know this is a _ninja picnic_, right?"

Oh, A yi. There is no such thing as a 'ninja picnic'. Well, actually, who knows what those goofy Americans have thought of...

Originally the picnic was a celebration for the children of a few clans who had turned nineteen and completed their historic martial arts training, which is more of a ceremonial thing now than anything else. It was a highly traditional ceremony filled with old processions and ancient easily-grass-stained kimonos. Now it has sort of became more of a 'come and eat food because it is a nice day' type of thing. I inhale deeply, ignoring A yi's gaudy perfume. It is a nice day. Too bad A yi is here to ruin it...

"Well, your _father _is trying to _hire _some of these ninja. _Hire_ them! Can you believe it?!" A yi says disdainfully, not waiting for my response.

"Yes, as bodyguards." I add. Father and his horrible overprotection. Not only do he and A yi refuse to adapt to Japan, father is under the impression that I am a little china doll, incapable of survival. Yes, he has been given reason to believe that, but still...

A yi stares at me in shock, unsure of how I could make an intelligent comment. After a moment she drops back into her belligerent bashing. "Hiring ninjas as bodyguards. What is he _thinking?!_ You can't trust ninjas!"

"I'm not sure they're ninjas, A yi." I declare, "They could be an old family of samurai or daimyo**10**." Samurai and daimyo were very trustworthy. They followed the bushido code of chivalry. Very prim and proper little sticks in the mud, they were.

A yi gives me a pointed look. "It doesn't matter what they are." she proclaims, "They're Japanese. Therefore they aren't worth dirt."

"Viella." Shi-shi warns harshly. Mama glances around nervously, but the only people nearby are the Tuis, and they're old friends. They know all about A yi and her noncooperation, strangeness, and unusual hatred of Japan.

Some of the Tangs moved to Japan from China around the fifth century, after their dynasty went up in flames. It is even said that their monks and dishonored warlords were the first to help create ninjutsu. Not modern ninjutsu of fanciful legends, but real deadly bloody ninjutsu espionage. Who knows, I could be descended from the first ninja master _ever._ Yet I can't even manage a good cartwheel.

All that was fine and good, but then my grandparents, my zŭfù**11** and zŭmŭ**12**, decided to leave Japan for China. My father and his innumerable brothers were born and raised in southern China, knowing their family history in Japan but not a drop of their culture. My mother and her family never left China, as far as we know. Bàba**13** met Māma**14** there, got married, and moved back to Japan, along with Aunt Shui and Aunt Viella. All of father's brothers stayed, wanting no part in their hare-brained scheme. Here they had me; a daughter of China born in Japan.

Mama and Shi-shi, having lived here since they were twenty-one and eighteen, respectively, have grown to love Japan and accept it as their homeland. After living here for around eighteen years, few would regard or even know the fact that we are Chinese, if not for my father and A yi.

Where my mother and younger aunt were willing to adapt, my father and older aunt were not. The first year they lived in Japan, they had an excuse to keep their old ways alive, and no one condoned them for that. The second year was when I was born. You would think they would honor my homeland, learn the culture that I was growing up with. No one was suggesting they completely forgo everything they grew up with in China, just be willing to comply. Nothing much, right?

Wrong.

They refused to behave in Japanese politeness. Countless people have been offended by their refusal to use honorifics. They use proverbs like they're going out of style by which they make them go out of style. Instead of using a Japanese bow, they use a Chinese bow, and trust me, it makes _all _the difference.

So instead of treating Mama and Shi-shi like the Japanese women they are, they insist on calling them gaijin: outsiders. It is the Japanese honorific for foreigners, and my is it _insulting_. Oh, how it makes my blood boil to hear my mother called a gaijin, as if she hasn't lived her entire adult life in Japan. Si Ma_-gaijin._ I'm surprised they don't use father's last name instead of hers, just to be cruel. Even those who know her well enough to call her by given name treat her like an outsider. Xue-gaijin. Shui-gaijin. One time I even heard someone call my aunt Shi-shi-gaijin.

I was about five seconds away from killing that man.

As if that wasn't enough, it has flown down to me. Tang-gaijin. Shen-gaijin. I have to suffer all because my aunt and father are stubborn old mules. I hate it. Sometimes I feel like I hate them. I just wish they would give up the whole act and try to be..._normal_. I'm not asking for much here, just an attempt. That's all I want.

I just want a chance to be looked at like I belong.

Something presses against my leg. To my right, Sai wedges herself in the itty bitty space between A yi and I. "Move it, lady." she mutters.

A yi gasps in horror and walks away. "Well, I never..." she mumbles as she leaves, "How rude...not even worth _Japanese _dirt..."

I look at Sai and try to suppress a smile. "You know you are the reason she hates Japanese people."

"Come on. I can't be the _only _reason."

"You're the main one!"

"I thought it was all the ninjas and demons and ronin-"

"Oh my!" I finish. We laugh so loud that we draw the attention of the nearby Tuis. Tui-san**15** stands and comes over, sitting next to Sai.

Ruffling her hair, he exclaims, "_There _you are, Aijsai! I was starting to think you'd gone missing."

"It's all Shen's fault, Daddy; she kidnapped me so she could sniff flowers." Sai claims.

"Did not!" I protest, waving my hands in the air. I realize I still have clumps of wisteria in my left hand and hide it behind my back, whistling nonchalantly.

Tui-san laughs. "Caught her red-handed, haven't we, Sai?" he chuckles.

"It seems we have, Papa. Now what do we do with her is the question?"

Tui-san taps his chin and ponders. "Tie her to a tree? Dangle her in the river by her angles? Oh! What about a Chinese water-torture chamber? That would be quite fitting, wouldn't it?"

I smile. Tui-san, always yanking my chain, claiming he's going to do all of these bad bad things. The worst he ever does is give me cookies. Of course, then he claims he's fattening me up so he can eat me, which is a fair price for his amazing sell-your-soul-for-a-plate cookies.

I love Tui-san; I wish my dad were like him. He's the kind of man A yi hates, especially because he's always joking with me about how I'm Chinese. A yi doesn't seem to understand that they're just that: jokes.

"Ooh, ooh, I know I know!" Sai exclaims, waving her hand in the air like she's in school attempting to answer a question, "We should leave her out in the sun and let her burn!" I look over at the Tuis' blanket, which is directly in the sun, where ours is in a wide patch of icy shade. I translate that statement into Sainese: "Get off the blanket so we can lay in the sun."

Tui-san laughs and motions to his wife, who throws him a picnic basket. "Let's fry her after we eat, okay?"

"Oh, why not let them eat over there?" a new voice asks.

I reach my arms back and wrap them around a thick pair of legs. "Papa!"

"Ni hao**16**, Shen." Papa says. I tug on his legs and he crouches, wrapping me in a hug.

"Ni hao. So, did you find yourself some bid bad ninjas?"

"Not yet. I spoke to some of them, and they all seem nice." I count to three silently. On three he adds under his breath, "For Japanese."

I sigh. "Daddy, why are you going to hire these men if you can't stand them?"

"I need to be sure you're safe, Shen..."

"I will be perfectly fine." I protest, "I don't see what the big fuss is about. Why do I need bodyguards? I'm not some silly princess. This is the 1900s, not the 1400s. We live in a village, Papa, a literal _village_, with less than five thousand people**17**. Just get a home security system."

"Now Shen, you know how I feel about those things." he states in a commanding voice.

Yes, Father. I know. You've only told me a thousand times this week.

"This is a dangerous country, Shen."

Oh, here we go again. The whole overprotective spiel. A yi has Father convinced that all of Japan is full of ninjas that murder people for fun, not to mention the host of mythical Japanese yōkai that have their various fun ways to kill little girls. He truly believes in them, although I find them and their stories hilarious. There's a demon called the aka manto**18** that lives in public toilets and asks you if you want red or blue paper**19**. If you say red, you are sliced until your clothes turn red from your blood. If you say blue, you are strangled until your face turns blue**20**. For some reason, I find this positively comical. But I digress.

Papa doesn't trust home security systems; he doesn't think machines have the capability to protect people, that they are easily tricked and rewired. So his theory is that if he bribes these ninja with enough money, they won't kill me in my sleep. I have tried to show him his horribly flawed logic, but he's not all that good of a listener.

I steal a Tupperware**21** dish, a water bottle, and my sunglasses out of the picnic basket and say loudly, "Bye, Daddy."

He looks up and smiles sheepishly when he realizes he's been raving again. "Bye, Shen. Be careful."

I look from him to the Tuis' blanket to him again. "Dad, I'm a meter away."

"I know, but still."

I sigh and make tut-tutting noises at him, shaking my head. I nudge Sai with my foot and gesture with my head to the other blanket. She groans and gets to her feet, grabbing a plastic-wrapped parcel from her basket. We meander over to the Tuis' blanket, which has a pretty leafy pattern, and stand politely at the edge.

Murakami-san**22** laughs as we approach. "Kicking me off, are you, girls?" she says as she stands.

"Yes." Sai declares, waving her hand at her, "Now move."

Murakami-san chuckles and grabs the unwilling Sai into a hug. "Now now, is that any way to treat your mother?"

"No." Sai says, attempting to escape.

Murakami-san holds her tight. She looks up to me. "Hello, Shen-chan."

"Hello, Murakami-san." I answer, bowing at the waist like a proper Japanese.

Murakami-san shakes her head. "Shen-chan, Shen-chan, when will you start calling me Ai like I have told you to so many times?"

"When you stop calling me Shen-chan."

"Fine. You win. Oh, Shen, did I tell you that my brother**23** is going to America?"

"No, you did not." I reply, leaning forward. America? That's so cool! It's like a whole different world over there!

Mura..._Ai_ nods. "He's leaving for New York in June."

"That's awesome! Best of luck to him."

Sai squirms and bats at her mother with her free hand. "Mom, let go!" Ai squeezes her tighter and rocks back and forth, loudly humming a Japanese lullaby that draws attention from most everyone nearby.

Sai moans. "Oh geez, Mom, not _that _song!"

Ai changes tune. "Rock-a-bye Aijsai on the treetops. When the wind blows the cradle will..."

"MOM!"

Ai chuckles and lets go. "Oh, fine." She shambles over to our koi-covered blanket and drops next to Shi-shi, striking up a conversation.

Sai huffs and throws herself down on the blanket. "Parents." she says, "Why must they be so _embarrassing_?!"

I drop next to her. "The world may never know."

Sai puts her hands under her head and stares up at the sky. "Now I want a Tootsie Pop**24**."

"I know, right."

Sai takes the saran-wrapped mass and pulls its contents out, slapping them down on the blanket. A stack of sandwiches leaking stuff that looks like Italian dressing sits next to her. She looks in disgust at her hand and shakes the dressing off, peering enviously at my nice neat Tupperware dish. I pull off the lid and tilt it toward her so she can see what it holds: dim sum**25**. I set down the tub and take one of her sandwiches. She snatches the plastic container and clutches it tightly to her as if I might try to take it back.

I laugh and raise my sandwich in a toast. "To symbiosis!"

Sai holds up the Tupperware. "To crappy sandwiches!"

"To big bad ninjas!"

"To big bad _cute _ninjas!"

We dissolve into laughter. Sai stares at the dish and declares, "You forgot utensils."

I shrug and bite into my sandwich. "C'est la vie**26**."

"Hey, this is Japan, not France." she says with her mouth full, "Get it right, china doll."

I roll my eyes at the old nickname. "Touché**27**, geisha girl."

Sai quiets and stares fixedly at the sky. "What, can the incredible Aijsai not formulate a response?" I jest.

She shoots me a look. "_No_, I'm just trying to figure out what country Latin comes from."

"Latin? Where did that come from?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying here!"

"That's not what I..." I begin. I cut myself with a sigh. "I don't get you."

"No one does. Answer the question."

"At-Latin-tis."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. The mermaids came up from At-Latin-tis and told the monks how to speak their language."

"The monks of what country?"

"It doesn't matter because the language originally came from At-Latin-tis**28**."

Sai snorts and rolls her eyes. She glances around. "I forgot my water bottle."

"Nice job."

She whacks me and gets up, bathing me in her shadow. I push my sunglasses up my head. "Hey, who turned off the sun?" I moan.

"Do you have an off switch?" Sai asks as she leaves, shaking her head and chuckling.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Her shadow moves and I get a face full of noonday sun. I sit up and rub my eyes, wincing when I poke myself in the eye with a wisteria stem. I set the flowers in the field around me, their white blossoms bright against the pink blooms all over the ground. The wind blows and the tulips scattered about bend over, investigating the strange new flower. Sakura petals dance in the wind, catching themselves in my thick dark hair. I smile, the light bulb appearing in my mind. I pluck some long-stemmed shibazakura and tie them together, humming as I make myself a flower crown. I place the finished loop on my head and knot the wisteria streams together, braiding them into my hair.

Sai returns, swinging a metal thermos by its handle. She chuckles at me. "Why am _I _ the one here named after a flower?" she asks, "It's obvious you're some sort of Chinese flower princess."

I beam and start humming an old Chinese song my parents would sing with each other, The Flower Drum Song**29**. Sai raises an eyebrow at my randomness, but I ignore her and continue to sing softly. "Ai-yi-ai-hu-ya..."

Sai shrugs and produces a pony band, wrapping it around the end of my braid. She scoops fallen sakura blossoms off the ground and weaves them into my air while I eat a drippy sandwich. I peer at the sandwich strangely. "What is in this thing?"

"Um, turkey, arificial cheese, funky lettuce, pepperoni, onions, pickles, crappy white bread, and some kind of balsamic vinaigrette." Sai rattles, "I'm assuming. That's usually what kind it is. I call it APIS."

I giggle. "Whatever that means, it sounds bad."

"It's short for A Peasant's Italian Sub Sandwich. APISS if you want to be specific."

I laugh hysterically, tapping the blanket three times. Sai flicks the back of my head. "Stop moving so much. You're knocking the flowers out of your hair."

"Sorry!" I say between breaths and chunks of APIS sandwich, "That's just absolutely hilarious!"

Sai chuckles and moves to my side. "There you are." she decrees with a grin, "Pretty as a princess."

I smile. "Thanks for the makeover."

"No prob. Now you look pretty."

I raise an eyebrow. "Are you implying that I didn't look pretty before?"

Sai stutters over herself in an attempt to correct the error. I laugh and lay back down. Sai's hand under my neck stops me. She flips me over so that my face is in the blanket. "Hey, no messing up your hair. I worked hard on that.

I hum in affirmation and press my face into the blanket, inhaling the smell of crushed flowers that wafts through it. The cloth fusses around me as Sai lays next to me. The scent of Mama's dim sum drifts to me, but I ignore it, shutting out everything but the warm sun on my back and the quilt under my face.

"Hey, Shen," Sai asks, "Have you taken a look at these 'ninja'?"

"No," I answer without moving, "Why? Are they cute or something?"

"A few of 'em." she admits. I turn myself in around and prop myself up on my elbows, looking in the direction Sai is. She points toward the wide part of the river, where a crowd of young adults hover on its banks. A girl backs away from the edge and takes off running, jumping over the river with a twirling flip. They cheer and clap when she lands perfectly on the other side. A boy kisses her on the cheek and pats her shoulder. Different boys spar each other, kicking and chopping at each other. Another girl chases a boy who resembles her closely with a tree limb, swinging at him and laughing. Sai is right; some of them are pretty hot. Not that I would ever tell her she's right.

Sai pulls a folded paper out of her back pocket. She opens it and sets it between us. "Your dad gave this to me. It's a list of all the graduates. Apparently there's two clan of samurai and one of ninja."

I look at the list. In large print are the three clan names with their symbols above them. Underneath them are the members' names in alphabetical order, with convenient little photos next to them. At the top is a quartet of black diamonds in the shape of a diamond. Beneath it reads, "Matsumae Clan".

"Matsumae!" I exclaim, "That's all the way on the other end of Hokkaidō**30**! How did they get up here?"

Sai shrugs. "I guess a branch of them migrated."

There are five members of the Matsumae Clan who finished their training recently. Even though clan members aren't necessarily siblings, the group of Matsumaes seem to be, logical assuming that only one family of the name decided to hike across an entire island. Then again, my family hiked across an entire _sea_.

I laugh and point to the paper. "Look! Three girls and two guys! Finally! Victory for the kunoichi!"

"Victory!" Sai exclaims with a fist pump. She takes the paper and lists the samurai. "Matsumae Akizashi, Matsumae Imabari, Matsumae Kiso, Matsumae Tandai, and Matsumae Zenkunen." She peers at the photos and sighs.

"What?"

"Neither of the boys are cute."

I giggle. Oh Sai, always being so boy crazy. She claims she always has to be on the lookout if she's ever going to find a man who will put up with her.

I lean over her shoulder. "Kiso kind of is."

Sai shakes her head and clucks her tongue. "I'm not thinking so, Shen. If anything, Zenkunen is the cuter of the two."

"No way."

"Uh huh."

"Liar."

Sai flicks me. "Let's just move on, okay?"

I smirk. "Fine. But I still think Kiso is cuter."

"Seriously, how?"

Laughing, I check the next clan down. Their symbol is an upside-down T with a twig off the upward line, resembling a tree branch. There is a black ring around it.

"Did some of your cousins finish their training?" I ask, looking at the names listed under the Murakami Clan.

"Yeah, my uncle's twins, Yoshiaki and Akitadi**31**." Sai says nonchalantly, "And Koko, of course."

My eyes widen. "Haruko?" I scroll down the list. The third name and last name under the Murakami Clan is Tui Haruko, with a photo of Sai's brother next to it.

"Yup. He's nineteen." Sai declares, "He's a full-fledged samurai now. And he won't stop rubbing it in my face until I am too."

I laugh abruptly. "Good luck with that."

"Two more years. Just two more infinite stinking years."

I smile. Sai absolutely despises her samurai training, but loves the fact that she can call herself a samurai and rub it in people's faces.

"Hey, I wonder if my dad is thinking of hiring your brother?"

Sai glances at me with saucer eyes. "That is a horrible idea."

"Why not? He's a nice guy! It's not like he's going to eat me in my sleep."

"We don't know that. For all we know, he's secretly a cannibal and just hasn't told anyone."

I slap Sai's arm. "Well, cannibal or not, he's better than some creepy stranger with a sword."

"You may have a point there. What about these ninja? What's the dirt on them?"

I peer at the bottom of the list. A black five-pointed crest was printed over the name. "The Hamato Clan." I read, "Hmm. I like the mon**32**. Such a pretty little bellflower."

Sai looks at the symbol. "Bellflower? Where are you getting that from?" she asks. She turns her head to the side. "It kind of looks like a turtle."

"A turtle? You're nuts!" I exclaim, "If anything it's a bellflower! Or a snowflake, maybe."

"Or a pizza."

"How is it pizza?!"

"I'm just saying." Sai's stomach growls. "Now I want pizza."

I reach for another APIS sandwich. As I chew on the squishy bread, I demand, "Now, tell me more about these ninja men."

"There's only two of them; they must be brothers." Sai says, "But they don't have the same last name. Weird."

"Your brother is part of the Murakami Clan and his last name is Tui."

"Fair."

I peer over Sai, but she pushes me away. "Watch it! You're going to get salad dressing all over me!"

I slump back down on the blanket. "Fine. Keep talking."

"Their names are Hamato Yoshi and Oroku Saki." Sai announces, "And they are actually quite attractive."

I put the sandwich aside and set my head on her shoulder, looking down at the paper. I examine the photos and whistle appreciatively. "My, that Yoshi sure is a cutie, isn't he?"

"Um, are you even _looking _at Saki? If you aren't, then do so. He wins, hands down."

I peer at the bottom photo and shake my head. "Nope. Yoshi still wins."

"Are you kidding? He's not even smiling in that photo."

I make a tsk-tsk noise. "It's too bad. I'm sure he would look much cuter if he was."

"Shen, you have the weirdest tastes."

"I'm allowed."

The sun on my back vanishes suddenly. "What are you two lovely ladies bickering about?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

"We're debating which one of these martial artists is cuter." I retort without hesitation. Sai looks at me with wide shocked eyes, but I shrug. "Hey, you've known me for seventeen years." I tell her, "You know I don't keep quiet about _anything_." Sai rolls her eyes.

"Oh ho?" the voice says, "And what is your verdict?"

"I say Hamato Yoshi." I jerk a thumb at Sai. "She says Oroku Saki."

Sai turns hydrangea red, and the voice chuckles deeply, making me realize that it is male. Sai buries her face in the ground and grumbles, "What do you want from me?"

I answer, "Oh, they could want various things from us. Our names, our phone numbers, our sandwiches." Most likely it's some guy from the other side of town who doesn't know us. Or some guy from our side of town who doesn't recognize the backs of our heads. Whoever it is, I'm sure I'll be much happier when they go away.

"I'll take your names and numbers." the voice says suavely.

"I will take a sandwich." another voice adds. After a moment, it protests, "What? She offered!"

I giggle and toss a sandwich over my shoulder. A few seconds later the voice hums contentedly.

"Okay, he got his half." the first voice declares flirtatiously, "May I have mine?"

I roll my eyes. Men. Why do we even tolerate them? Sai sighs and pushes herself up, rolling over to face our mysterious friends. "Never in a million years am I going to give you my-" she begins angrily, "Oh. Hi."

"Hi." the voice replies with a smiling tone.

Sai sits up and bows. "Tui Aijsai."

"I believe you already know my name."

Sai giggles. "Yeah, a little bit."

_Giggles? "A little bit,"? _"Who are you and where have you put Sai?" I ask, "Wherever you put her, keep her there."

Sai punches me playfully. "Hush, you."

"Seriously, where did you take her to? At-Latin-tis?"

Sai nudges me again. "Yes, I kidnapped her and forced her to learn Latin."

"No! The horror!"

The two above me laugh along with us. "You know, I never did get your name." one says.

"Nice try."

The seconds voice pipes up. "I believe that, my friend, is called rejection."

"Can it, Yoshi." the first voice retorts.

Yoshi?

I roll over, propping up on my elbows so Sai doesn't berate me about my hair. Above me loom, of course, the infamous Oroku Saki and Hamato Yoshi. I huff. "I should have figured this out a long time ago." Though really, how the heck was I supposed to know? There's hundreds of guys my age in this town; by what dumb luck would it be them?

Apparently my dumb luck.

"Most likely" Hamato-san answers. He bows politely, even though it's unnecessary. "I am Hamato Yoshi, and this is Oroku Saki."

Oroku-san smirks. "No, really? I could've sworn my name was Pudding..."

I chuckle and bow at the shoulders, not very keen on the idea of actually _getting up_. "Pleased to meet you, Hamato-san, Oroku-san. My name is Shen, and this is Aijsai." Sai waggles her fingers in a cutesy manner. I look at her pointedly. "You know, I still think you were kidnapped by an At-Latin-tic mer-creature."

Sai chortles. "Shush."

Oroku-san chuckles. "That's a first."

"At-Latin-tic mer-creatures?" I ask.

"No, being called 'Oroku-san'. It's an improvement from 'Oroku-kun**33**.'"

"Or 'Oroku-chan.'" Hamato-san adds.

Oroku-san glares threateningly at Hamato-san. I try not to laugh too loudly at the exchange. I fail quite miserably.

"Is something funny, Tang-chan?" Oroku-san asks. His tone carries the threat from his expression, but I ignore it.

"It's nice to know I'm not the only one with honorific issues." I say.

Oroku-san raises an eyebrow. Hamato-san grumbles under his breath. It isn't perfectly clear, but I catch snippets of words like "impolite", "crass", and "ill-mannered."

"Why would you of all people-" Oroku-san begins, "Ah. Are you the lovely young lady from the mainland?"

Oh, great. Even people I don't know have heard of me. In a spread-out own of a few thousand, you wouldn't think absolutely everyone knows you, but _apparently_...

"Tang-gaijin at your service." I mutter.

Hamato-san looks like he's going to say something, but he's interrupted by Oroku-san. "It appears Father has his kimono in a twist." he declares, looking over his shoulder, "Duty calls, my friend."

Without another word, Hamato-san nods and leaves, bowing politely to me and Sai. Oroku-san kisses each of our hands before bowing and following. Sai giggles (Again with the giggling! What is up here?!) and waves. I smile before furiously rubbing the back of my hand in the grass.

"He seems nice." Sai declares.

"He seem stupid." I reply.

"What? Why?"

"He's an idiotic flirt."

"Those kind of guys are always good when you get to know them."

"Not always. Besides, he seems tough to get to know well."

"I could manage."

I roll my eyes and chomp down on a sandwich. Boys seem to be the only thing that can completely alter Sai's personality. She has two forms: Normal Form and Boy Form. I love the Normal Form; I hate the Boy Form. Sadly, they are a package deal.

When Sai realizes I'm not going to talk anymore, she returns to her (my) dim sum. We eat in awkward silence, listening to birds' chatter and water's laughter. Eventually my family comes over to collect me, and I leave Sai on a strange and ominous-feeling note.

I ignore the unusual tension. "Did you find your unnecessary bodyguards, Papa?" I ask.

He frowns at the comment. "Shen, we are foreigners in a tight-knit community, full of old clans with long intertwining histories. We could easily get in the middle of something we are unaware of and-"

"Father, it was a yes or no question."

"Yes, I did." he answers stiffly.

"Good...I guess."

Shi-shi slinks over and nudges me to the side. "Shenny-chenny, my dear, your father is in a bit of a bad mood. He doesn't like the idea of having to associate with ninja to begin with, and now he's entrusted some with his most precious possession: you."

I nod. "Wait, some? He hired more than one?"

"Yes, two. Don't ask me why; I'm not exactly sure. One would think he would want to be acquainted with as little people as possible, but..."

I smile. "That's just Papa-logic."

Shi-shi laughs and ruffles my hair. "Exactly, Shenny-chenny. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to drag your A yi to the other side of town." She adds in a soft grumble, "This ought to be _very_ fun."

I giggle. "Good luck with that."

"I will most certainly need it."

She ushers A yi away, who is grumble-grousing over whatever aspect of Japan is irritating her at the current moment. I fall in line with Mama. She puts an arm around me and rubs my shoulder in a nonchalant motherly way. "It will be good for him, nü'er**34**." she says to herself, "It will be good for him."

I'm not exactly sure who 'he' is, but I nod anyway. Mama smiles as we near our home. She opens the wooden gate, shaped like the Chinese character for our last name**35**. The three of us drift up the large walkway of stones implanted in the ground, singing old outdated Chinese proverbs to your feet. Our fat koi wriggle in an adorable fashion within their little lake, nudging water-lily pads away from their faces in hopes that we have food. I laugh at their antics. You can't exactly snuggle with a fish, but they certainly are adorable little pets. They'll play fetch, too, if whatever they're fetching is edible.

I dip my hand into the pond, watching as the koi prod my fingers and giggling when the nip them. Mama comes up behind me and fiddles with my braid. "Your hair is beautiful, Shen."

"Thanks." I say, rubbing the belly of a big solid black fish, "It was Sai's idea."

"Well, Sai certainly is crafty." Mama declares admiringly.

"Shen, come inside. Stop fussing in the pond; you'll get frostbite." Dad calls.

I sigh and withdraw my hand, shaking water on the pretty fishies. "Frostbite in April. Yeah, that happens _all _the time."

Mama shushes me. "Come, Shen. You know how he gets."

"He never used to be like this." I mumble, reluctantly rising. There was a time when Papa was carefree, letting me be the child I was. At one point in my life I scampered about without a care in the world, getting cuts and scrapes and scratches every second. I could run to the sea and back without Father minding at all. Then I turned age twelve. All it took was a few boys looking at me a little longer than they should have, not meeting my eyes when I spoke to them, whistling loudly as I walked past, and just being _boys_.

My father seemed to forget he was once a boy himself, that the gestures meant no harm. He snapped invisible handcuffs on my wrists, claiming he was protecting me when he was actually imprisoning me. For years after that a family member had to escort me everywhere. It took him a long time to trust Tui-san and Murakami-san with me, and even longer to trust me to Sai.

The way he acts now, it is sometimes hard to believe he was once worse.

Mama sighs and nods, leading me to the house. "He does it all out of love, my darling."

"I know, Mama, I just wish he didn't."

She nods quietly and sends me inside before her, quietly shutting the door. Father isn't in the main room or the kitchen; he is probably in his bedroom sulking. Mama meanders into the kitchen and picks up a little dish of leaves. I offer to help her make the tea, but she shoos me away.

"Run off and play now. I will need your help later." she decrees, "We have to cook for five tonight."

I smile and slip down the hall to my bedroom, picking up the brush on my desk. With a lot of wiggling and yanking, I work the easel out of the corner of my room and set it up with its back to the door. I sneak my head out the door and make sure no one is near. I hear Mama humming in the kitchen and the rustling of one of Papa's favorite Chinese scrolls. Silently I slide the door shut and tiptoe to the easel, moving the thin cover of Chinese writing to reveal a yellowed canvas. I pick plastic caps out of the 'empty' porcelain dishes so the colored paints are exposed. Dipping a brush in pale blue paint, I gently shade in the flower's petals and shadow its center with black. Around it I paint a few blurry lotuses, pinching the paper slightly so their petals look crinkled. Grabbing a thin brush, I sign 'Cestello' at the bottom before I forget.

"Shen!" Mama calls, "Would you be a dear and come help me?"

"Just a second!" I exclaim. Stifling a few choice words, I stuff the caps in their dishes and hide the drippy brushes. I grab the cloth cover and eye the painting nervously. I've never had to hide a painting when it's wet. This could end badly. I quickly cover the painting and hiss when the white cloth slowly turns blue.

"Shen! What are you doing in there?!" Mama asks.

"Nothing!" I answer. Shoving the easel in the corner, I take off down the hall and slide into the kitchen. "Hi."

"Hi." Mama says with a crooked smile as she takes in my frazzled hair and mussy clothes. "Was someone taking a nap?"

I smile sheepishly, not answering the question. Mama laughs and passes me a dish of rice, ordering me about while she attacks a salmon.

We throw our dishes in their respective cooking appliances and call Papa out for mid-afternoon tea. I smile down at the pretty porcelain teacup as Mama fills it with the pungent substance I have to pretend to love. Today it is green tea, the worst-tasting of them all. There is a reason Americans serve green tea cold. Warm it tastes of leafy feet.

"Have you heard Cestello will be revealing his new painting this Wednesday?" Papa asks Mama.

I flush nervously and try to hide it. Usually Cestello is brought up somewhere in the middle of the conversation, never right at the start.

"I have." Mama replies, "I can't wait to see what he has in store next. Cestello is always so..original...different. I just wish he, or she, was willing to reveal their identity. Then they could finally get the phrase they deserve." Mama turns to me. "Don't you think, Shen?"

I blink, wide-eyed. "Um...yeah. Totally." I nod and smile nervously, as I always do when Cestello comes up.

"I wonder why they feel they have to hide behind a pseudonym." Mama says, casually sipping her tea.

Papa hums in agreement. "It's almost suspicious."

I hide my face in my teacup, staring down at the faint coffee-colored liquid, debating whether or not to speak. "Maybe they don't want to be judged?" I supply.

Papa raises an eyebrow. "Why would they be judged, Shen? Cestello is an incredible artist, albeit a little strange. I mean, that name, _Cestello_. I don't think they're Japanese, whomever they are."

"Maybe Cestello doesn't want to be judged for their gender or their age." I declare, "Oh, and Cestello is Italian. It's in the name of a Renaissance painting by Sandro Botticelli**36**."

Mama and Papa eye me strangely, eyebrows raised inquiringly. I bury my face in my cup, gulping deeply. When I finish, I don't lower the cup, merely lifting my eyes. My parents talk amongst themselves, but occasionally their focus darts to me. With a loud attention-drawing clank, I set my cup down. A soft noise comes from the front of the house, and I whip my head around.

"Here already?" Mama asks, slowly rising, "That's quite early-"

"I'll get it!" I cry, bouncing up. I run to the front of the house and away from the weirdness at the tea table. Impatient and curious, I yank open the door.

"Hello Tang-san-" one of them begins. His eyes widen in recognition. The man next to him slowly starts to grin.

This must be my unlucky day.

For standing in my doorway are Hamato Yoshi and Oroku Saki.

**1. Japanese honorific commonly used for young girls, but can be used to make anything "cute": children, pets, lovers, etc**

**2. Japanese honorific used for someone of respect—a level above "-san", a level below "-domo"**

**3. The largest member of the salmon family**

**4. Pink moss—a small wildflower that goes nuts from mid-April to mid-May**

**5. Cherry blossoms**

**6. Short for nishikigoi—a variety of the common carp**

**7. Chinese for aunt, specifically the mother's sister**

**8. Master-less samurai—regarded like ninja as morally unstable and dangerous**

**9. The all-encompassing term for Japanese demons such as kitsune, nekomata, and banekoko**

**10. Warlords who served shogun and ordered samurai**

**11. Chinese for grandfather, specifically the father's father**

**12. Chinese for grandmother, specifically the mother's mother**

**13. Chinese for father**

**14. Chinese for mother**

**15. Japanese honorific equal to mister, miss, or missus—the most basic and all-encompassing honorific**

**16. Chinese for hello**

**17. The population of Sarufutsu, the (real) northernmost town on Japan's northernmost island, is around three thousand**

**18. Sometimes known as the aoi manto**

**19. Has also been known to ask if one wants a red or blue cape**

**20. It is said answering with another color(i.e. yellow) gets one dragged to the Netherworld—the only way to escape torture is to refuse paper**

**21. I do not own Tupperware-DUH**

**22. Not the blind chef**

**23. This is Murakami-san the chef**

**24. I don't own these either**

**25. A Chinese dish of small steamed or fried dumplings containing various fillings**

**26. French phrase meaning "That's life."**

**27. French phrase used to mean "Good point."-literally is the past tense form of the verb "touch"**

**28. Latin actually originated in west Italy in a region called Latium during 6th century B.C.**

**29. The version Shen sings is a parody version—the lyrics to both the traditional and parodied versions can be found at (slash)songs(slash)**

**30. Japan's northernmost island—above Honshu, the main island**

**31. Implied as the son and daughter of Murakami-san the chef**

**32. Proper name for a clan symbol**

**33. Diminutive Japanese honorific used for young boys—similar to "-chan"**

**34. Chinese for daughter**

**35. 唐**

**_36. Cestello Annunciation _**


End file.
